


A Strange Sort of Peace

by atreeofblue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Harry Potter, Christmas, Christmas Eve, M/M, Marauders, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atreeofblue/pseuds/atreeofblue
Summary: All Lily Potter wants this Christmas Eve is a cozy gathering with her friends and new baby. But tensions between Sirius and Remus are rising.





	1. Chapter 1

Lily Evans sighed, running her eyes down the length of the letter. She’d meant to write it days ago, and now it read like a last-minute reconciliation attempt. Which, of course, it was.

But if you couldn’t find a common ground on Christmas, when could you?

“Hey, hon!” James’s head appeared around the doorframe. “Hey, Remus just arrived, the whole gang’s here!” He peered farther into the room to where Lily was frowning at her parchment.

“That’s not to Severus, is it?” James asked, voice thick with suspicion.

She shook her head, not bothering to look up. Though she would never tell James, she had sent Sev a letter. She’d been careful-- nothing about the Order-- telling only about how Harry had just learned to roll over, reminiscing about their Hogwarts days, a picture of the cat that had appeared on their doorstep. She knew he wouldn’t respond, but hoped he read it anyway. Hoped somehow, somewhere, he was sitting by a crackling fire with a good book and warm butterbeer. Praying he wasn’t out in the dark, the cold. Praying he wasn’t killing.

James came to the desk and looked over her shoulder, reading.

“It’s nice, Lil,” he said after a moment.

“It seems rushed,” she sighed.

“No, it seems… heartfelt.” James fingered a picture on the edge of the desk: a gurgling Harry. “Are you sending this as well?”

She nodded.

“Well, sign it and then you’re done!” He grinned, never serious for long. “And you can come join in the eggnog-drinking competition!”

Lily laughed weakly as her husband waltzed out of the room. Then, biting her lap, she added the last line to the letter:

_Please write back, Petunia. I hope you and your family have a very happy Christmas. Do give Dudley a thousand kisses from his aunt. Love, your little sister._

She signed her name with a flourish and tucked the picture of Harry into the inside of the letter. Her son smiled out of the picture, biting one of his toes in an almost thoughtful manner. Lily had only ever seen pictures of Dudley from their parents, but she liked to think her sister might put Harry on their fridge, perhaps even on the mantelpiece. Wishful thinking, probably, but it didn’t hurt to help it along. She left the letter for addressing later in the evening and went to join her friends downstairs.

 

“How have you been, Remus?”

Remus, already hugging a mug of warmed something to his chest, gave Lily a wan smile. “Fine. I’m still looking for a job, but, you know… I think my parents like having me at home, honestly. And it feels… safest, at the moment.”

Lily nodded, wrapping an arm around Remus’ shoulder in greeting for a brief moment. She felt his shoulder blades poking through his sweater, and stepped back to analyze her friend.

He seemed paler than ever, his hair thin and unkempt, plum circles under his eyes. Lily had always felt a strange sort of peace around quiet, academic Remus, but now it was unsettling. She’d barely seen him for the past year, and there had been a few rumors, whispers, really, about where he had been. What he had been doing. James had laughed them off, but Lily, though she didn’t believe them for a minute, knew it was nothing to joke about. The struggles of the past year were written all over Remus, from his scuffed boots to his premature worry lines, and she worried too. Remus had always been sick, but now he looked half… gone. He glanced directly into her eyes for a moment before offering another slight twitch of his lips that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Lily!” Sirius exclaimed, appearing from behind her. “My dear, it’s been so long!” He swept her up in a bear hug.

“Padfoot,” she laughed, unravelling herself. “You live with us.”

“And you’ve been hidden away for an entire hour,” Sirius countered. “I was beginning to miss you.”

“Oh, stop it,” Lily said. “James, don’t you think it’s time we encourage Padfoot here to move out?”

James shrugged. “He’s moving back to Hogsmeade for that new job in June.”

“June,” Lily groaned. “You know, I sometimes daydream about the day I have my husband to myself, crazy as that sounds.”

“And when that time comes,” Sirius added, “I truly hope you appreciate all the free childcare I’ve been providing.”

“We’ll never forget it, mate,” James said solemnly. “Although it might be a tad easier to remember if the childcare… keeps coming.”

Lily glanced around the crowded sitting room. “Speaking of… does Peter have Harry right now?”

“No, he--” James spun on his heel, looking around the room. “I swear I put him right there in the cradle, he was sleeping.”

The cradle, next to the fireplace, was conspicuously empty.

“Seriously, James? Where the hell is my son?”

James grinned at her apologetically, his smile sliding off his face as he registered her anger. “I mean, he can’t move on his own-- Sirius?”

Sirius shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I thought he was still up in his bedroom.”

“Goddamn it-- Peter!” Lily shouted.

There was a great bang and clatter as Peter emerged from the kitchen. Lily couldn’t help but smile. He had flour all over his face, and wore a chaotically bright floral apron that Lily herself never wore. He had narrowed out in the past few years, but his face was still round and soft, his cheeks pink and light hair flopping into his eyes.

He wiped his hands hurriedly on the apron. “Is everything okay-- oh, hey, Moony. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Peter, have you seen--” Lily started, but she was interrupted by an ear-piercing scream.

“Ah. One sec.” Peter slipped back into the kitchen and a second later he was back, cooing softly and cradling a baby against his chest.

“--Harry,” Lily finished awkwardly. “Okay, well, I guess you have seen him then.”

“Oh, yeah, the little guy was all alone when all three of you went upstairs, so I put him in his highchair to keep him company.”

Peter rocked Harry gently as he spoke, and the four-month old began to giggle slightly, kicking with his feet. “Isn’t that right, Harry, do you like baking? Do you like _apples_ and _flour_ and _sugar_?” With each word, Peter gave Harry a small bounce, and the baby gurgled with joy.

“Anyhow, the oven is on and Harry and I have to go finish up the buns before putting in the casserole,” Peter said. “Remus-- good to see you, mate. Can’t wait to catch up. But the buns wait for no man.” He sent a saucy wink in their direction before disappearing back into the kitchen in a cloud of flour.


	2. Chapter 2

“I didn’t realize you’d gotten yourself a house elf,” Sirius joked. “Well done, mate.” 

“Don’t be an ass, Sirius,” Lily said, but a small smile played at her lips. “Harry loves  Peter.”

James scoffed. “He’s not really old enough to distinguish faces--”

“He most certainly is!” Lily retorted. 

Remus let himself sink into the couch as he listened to their exchange. Their banter was familiar and nostalgic. He ran his fingers down the couch cushion, reminding himself that this was real, that he was here on Christmas Eve with his best friends. With his family. 

The fire crackled next to him, and Remus let the heat soak into his bones. His warming spells, rarely penetrating his skin, were a poor substitute. He tried to make his limbs relax completely, tried to still the twitch that had started on his right hand, but, four days after the full moon, he ached as though he’d been stretched completely apart and then stitched back together all wrong. 

His friends kept up their conversation, seemingly oblivious to Remus’ silence; and why wouldn’t they be? He’d always been the quiet one. But now his heart fluttered thinly against his ribs as he watched the firelight flicker across their faces as they laughed. The three of them were used to each other’s constant company, and Remus was so insignificant in their lives. When he was a teen, at least he’d been good for a thrill; perhaps that was all he’d ever been good for. But now, in these increasingly dark times, with a baby of their own and real, adult, concerns, having a friend like Remus was simply… dangerous.

He rested his hands on his knees awkwardly, desperately wishing he could grab one of the books on the nearby shelves. But the occasional comment or question sent his direction made him seem just enough involved enough for it to be rude. Peter and Sirius were givens in Godric’s Hollow, didn’t even need to be welcomed here… They just  _ were.  _

The distance between them and Remus stretched through empty chasms. 

As the conversation continued, Remus found himself gazing at Sirius. He was handsome as ever, his chin sharp, black hair swooping past his forehead and grazing his cheekbones. It threw lines of shadow across his face, but his eyes, reflecting the dancing firelight, glowed golden. 

_ It’s not that bad,  _ Remus assured himself as he watched his friends laugh. Despite the war, they were okay, they were alive, they were thriving. Sirius’s laughed, and Remus felt a leap in his chest as he caught Sirius’s canines glimmering for a moment as he bit his bottom lip unconsciously. 

They were so, so alive. In that moment, Remus knew he would place all of his bets on his friends, if he could. 

_ You’re the ones who’ll make it out of this,  _ he told them internally, and his heart ached. His friends had a baby, had a house, a  _ future _ , while Remus felt the walls close around him. His friends had been everything to him for so long that he had almost forgotten, in Hogwarts, that this world wasn’t made for people like him. There had been nothing waiting for him on the other side.

Three years ago, Remus had cried himself to sleep on Christmas Eve, knowing that the next afternoon, as his best friends headed to the Christmas feast, he would be alone, going to a cold, empty shack, the pain of his transformations already weighing down his limbs. His friends would come later, sure, but the joy their presence brought could never make up for the torturous reality that Remus would spend his last Hogwarts Christmas doubled over in pain, morphing into a wild beast. 

It had been embarrassing, to be seventeen years old and sobbing into his pillow like a child, but he’d thought he was being silent. The moonlight dappled across his sheets like a cruel joke, lighting upon the wet spots across his pillow, the tears wiped on the back of his hand shining silver. He’d started when he felt his mattress dip, and looked up, blinking wearily, at the figure at the end of his bed. 

In the shadows, Sirius hadn’t looked like more than a monochrome, angular suggestion of a boy, but when he reached out to touch Remus his hand was warm and solid. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus gasped as more tears spilled from him. “Did I wake you?”

Sirius shrugged, sliding his hand up Remus’s arm, and Remus shivered. 

A year earlier, their sixth year, things had been different. It had been weeks since the full moon, and Remus had been feeling so healthy, so full of life. At the Christmas feast, he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from Sirius’s lips, and they’d both flirted so shamelessly that James had told them to go get a room, preferably in the Slytherin dormitories. That night, they’d snuck off to the astronomy tower, just the two of them. They’d shivered together in the freezing winter air, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues and finally collapsing into one another’s arms. Remus had nuzzled close into Sirius’s neck, desperate for the warmth, pressing the soft skin under his jawline into his cheek, when Sirius took Remus’s chin in his hand. 

“Moony,” he’d whispered. “Look up.”

Remus had, and then Sirius was leaning in, his lips brushing softly against Remus’s own. 

It hadn’t been their first kiss, and certainly they’d kissed more intensely, more desperately _ ,  _ but this was the one that made Remus’s cheeks warm slightly when he thought of it, that made his chest feel oddly empty years later. 

There hadn’t been kisses like that in their seventh year. Remus knew, somehow, it was his fault. Sirius would have kissed him, if only he’d been able to keep up his facade, if only he’d been able to convince himself it would all last. But it had been growing harder and harder to convince himself that there was hope for him, that the Death Eaters would stop growing stronger, that the world would somehow embrace him the way Hogwarts had. As his best friends began to plan their lives, it became increasingly obvious that Remus wouldn’t have one.  There was no need to bring Sirius down with him. 

That last Christmas Eve, though. Remus had flinched away from Sirius, but the other boy didn’t move. 

“It’s okay, Moony,” he’d whispered, brushing Remus’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re going to be alright.”

Remus cried harder, his whole body aching simultaneously with emptiness and a longing for Sirius, for those golden years they’d spent together even before their first kiss. Aching for a time that didn’t feel so much like the world was at war with him, if such a time had ever existed. 

Sirius leaned down and kissed Remus’s cheek, his lips lingering for just a moment. Remus had clenched his sheets hard with his hands, feeling himself nearly tear in two. 

“Budge over,” Sirius had whispered, all romantic gesture lost, and he squeezed his body into the bed. He pressed himself carefully into Remus, wrapping an arm around his shaking friend. Remus felt Sirius’s warm breath against the back of his head, and let himself sink into his friend, his own lungs falling into the soothing rhythm of Sirius’s rising chest. 

“Sleep,” Sirius whispered in his ear, and finally, Remus did. 

 

It had only been three years ago, but his Hogwarts years felt eons away now. As Remus watched Sirius talk animatedly, his wand tucked casually behind one ear, he felt like screaming. It was all so incredibly unfair. 

Sirius brushed a piece of hair away from his eyes, slender fingers twirling it slightly before letting it bounce back across his face. He laughed at something James said, then glanced up, his eyes catching Remus’s. Caught staring, Remus couldn’t pull his gaze away, but after a moment, Sirius’s eyes narrowed. They contained no laughter, no love. 

Remus found himself on his feet, steadying himself against the wall. “I’ll be-- I’ll go see what Peter’s up to.”

“Okay,” said Lily, but the three of them hardly looked up as Remus left the room.  

 

The kitchen was a disaster. Flour powdered the floor like snow and the countertop was so cluttered that Remus couldn’t see the surface. But it smelled wonderful, an amalgamation of spices and warm butter. 

“And  _ that’s  _ how you put a casserole in the oven,” Peter was saying, closing the oven door against a blast of heat. He took a theatrical bow, making a goofy face at Harry, who blubbered at him in approval. 

Peter turned. “Hey, Moony!”

“Hey.” Remus frowned at the baby. Harry was dusted in white, squeezing a chunk of dough in one hand, splashing another in what looked like cranberry sauce. “Should he be eating that?”

“Oh, he’s not really interested in solid foods yet,” Peter said. “Yeah, he just likes to play with it.”

As if on cue, Harry smiled and smacked his hand into the cranberry sauce, sending it splashing. He laughed, kicking his feet. 

“So,” Peter said, unconcerned. “How’re you, mate? It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, pulling out a chair and giving it a cursory look-over before sitting. “I’m doing--- honestly? I’m not doing that well right now.”

Peter stirred something bubbling on the stove with an unnecessary amount of aggression. Thick amber liquid sloshed over the sides, making Harry squeal with glee. 

“I heard-- I heard about the rumors,” Peter said carefully. 

“Right,” Remus sighed. “I mean,  _ most  _ people haven’t. Werewolves are hardly the most important things on our minds right now, mostly. It’s just circling the Order, and… around, but, y’know…” 

_ Pull it together,  _ he told himself.  _ Either have a conversation or don’t. _

“But they’re the ones who really matter,” Peter said, nodding. 

“Yeah,” Remus agreed lamely. He found himself staring at the still-giggling Harry. The baby had finally lost his wrinkled-raisin look, and he was beginning to grow into his wide eyes, his cheeks puffing out. He had more hair than Remus remembered, and it was already beginning to stick up at odd angles.

“You can hold him,” Peter told Remus. “He loves strangers.” His face turned suddenly red. “I mean, he loves being held. He’s not one of those babies who’ll only let their mum around. He’s very trusting. I think it’s the age.”

Remus looked at the baby, who cooed back at him. Harry was absolutely filthy, simply covered in food, and Remus had worn his best sweater. But then again, what did it matter. 

Getting Harry out of the chair was a struggle, as Harry waved his limbs happily, and Remus didn’t know how easy it was to break a baby. Soon, though, Remus was holding a happy Harry against his chest, hands trembling. 

_ Don’t you dare let this child fall,  _ he told himself as Harry grappled against Remus’s face with sticky hands.

Remus had always assumed that, if his best friends had a baby, he would be a constant part of the child’s life. Uncle Moony, over every day. But when had Harry gotten so big? When had he started looking like a real person?

Peter was studying Remus seriously. 

“It’s just… now that people suspect I’m a werewolf, they’re suspecting other things too!” Remus blurted.

Peter rummaged around for a moment, emerging with two mugs. “I know, mate. They think you’re working for You-Know-Who.”

It felt as though he’d been slapped. “I hadn’t… I haven’t yet heard anyone say that. To my face.”

Peter shrugged, his eyes mournful. “Doesn’t seem to be any point in edging our way around the topic.”

Remus sighed. “What am I going to do, Wormy? If people think I’m a traitor, then what can I do about it?”

“Ignore them,” Peter said. “They’re prejudiced. Cider?”

“Yeah, sure.” Remus accepted the warm mug Peter offered him. 

Peter leaned against the counter, smiling over the top of his drink, his eyes sympathetic. Harry yawned against Remus’s shoulder, and Remus rubbed his back. He felt better here, with the baby pressed into him. Less like an imposter. Harry was warm and soft and delicate and important, and Remus hadn’t realized how much he missed the sort of goodness that came with a baby. Holding Harry grounded him. 

“So you don’t think I’m the traitor, then?”

“I’m not even convinced there  _ is  _ a traitor,” Peter said. “But if I’m wrong…. No, Remus, I know it’s not you.”

“Really?” Remus asked weakly. 

Peter’s voice swelled with confidence. “Really.”

“I think…” Remus faltered, unable to put his fears into words. “Mate, I think… I think  _ Sirius  _ suspects me.” He swallowed.

There was silence in the kitchen and the laughter from the sitting room trickled in. 

“Peter, please,” Remus said. Peter had always been his secret confidante. Whenever something was too serious, whenever Remus thought the others might laugh at him, he came to Peter. “The truth?”

“The truth,” Peter said slowly. “The truth is, well. I think Padfoot has his doubts.”

Remus’s breath caught in his throat, and he must have let it show on his face, as Peter began to backpedal.

“He doesn’t  _ really  _ suspect you, mate. He just doesn’t know what to think, and you’ve been so distant lately and… I think he thinks it’s purposeful. That you’re avoiding him.”

Remus opened his mouth to retort, but Peter interrupted him. “I know you aren’t. I’m only telling you what I think.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Remus asked, jiggling Harry as he began to whimper. 

Peter sighed as Harry’s cries strengthened. “Just talk to him.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was cleaned and fed, nestled against James. Lily gazed at them, at her two beautiful boys, and wished every afternoon felt this warm, this soft. The holidays had always seemed rather magical to Lily, and this was the first one she’d spent away from her parents and her sister. She missed it a little, the childhood excitement she used to have on Christmas, but she was so thankful to have the little family she’d created now. 

She’d managed to get Peter and Remus out of the kitchen for the eggnog drinking contest, and now James and Peter were involved in a quiet game of chess as they waited for final parts of their meal to stop cooking. Sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, Lily stretched her toes-- she was wearing her favorite snowflake socks-- and nudged James with her foot. He shifted slightly, throwing her a small smile, and let her foot lie under his warm thigh. 

“Gross,” moaned Sirius. “No flirting in the sitting room.”

“In  _ our  _ sitting room,” Lily retorted. “And yes, warming my toes is truly the most sexual thing that has happened in this home.”

“Merlin, don’t paint a picture!”

Sirius and Remus sat on the couch above her, a good distance apart from one another. More romantic tension? But Lily was fairly certain she would know if anything had continued between them after Hogwarts. She craned her neck to look at both of them in turn before taking a hand each in her own and squeezing their fingers lightly. 

She looked at James again, feeling herself fall in love all over as she studied her son, asleep. Harry’s lips were bowed, his cheeks ridiculously round, his dark eyelashes so long she could almost see each individual hair. They’d put him in a deep blue onesie, charmed with golden stars, and each time Harry’s chest rose with a breath the stars swirled slightly, miniature galaxies.

This was what peace felt like. Lily held tight onto Remus and Sirius’s hands, basking in the comfort of being together, of having this family with her tonight. Snow fell through the fading light outside, and she hoped every holiday would be this perfect. How wonderful it was to know they had created this, to know her son would grow up in a home filled with comfort and love and warmth.

 

James put up a good argument for eating in the sitting room, but Peter had insisted that the meal he had been slaving over simply could not be eaten on the floor, so they pulled a few mismatched chairs up to the tiny kitchen table, which was simply buckling over with the sheer weight of the food. 

“Mate, this is a  _ feast, _ ” James said as they scooped up helpings of food. “What is this dish?”

Peter’s cheeks turned rosy. “My own invention. It’s like a pasta casserole, but I added pumpkin and raisins and some herbs… among other things.”

“My god, this is amazing,” Lily said. “Peter, you have a real gift.”

Peter blushed harder, and turned far too much attention to  buttering his rolls. “The salad uses half the same ingredients, but don’t worry-- much less cinnamon.”

“I’m not sure this is a salad.” Sirius peered into the bowl. “Certainly not a healthy one.”

“Hey, that’s spinach,” Remus countered, helping himself to a heaping bowl. His arm bumped against Sirius’s, and Sirius wrenched himself quickly back. 

Remus turned red and quickly gazed down at his plate, but Sirius didn’t seem to care. 

“So,” he said to James, “this time next year, what do you reckon? We could have a winter Quidditch match. Me and Peter against you and Harry?”

James laughed. “You think Harry’s going to be playing Quidditch within the year?”

“Certainly not  _ well _ ,” Sirius countered. “That’s why I have Wormtail on my team.” While Peter sputtered, he continued. “But yeah, let’s get him one of those baby brooms, the ones that only rise a few feet.”

“My son is  _ not  _ getting on a broomstick before he turns two, at least,” Lily said. 

“Aw Lils, I got one for my first birthday,” said James, flashing her a smile. 

“And your mother told me that you broke your arm exactly one week later. No thank you.”

“Speaking of,” Remus said. “Are your parents coming tomorrow, Lily?”

She bit her lip. “No, they’re at my sister’s this year. But James’s parents will be here tomorrow morning.” She smiled. “Anyhow, they’ve promised to be here next Christmas.”

“Lily’s sister,” Sirius said through a mouthful of casserole, “has a baby just a bit older than Harry.”

“Oh yes, I think she mentioned--” Remus started. 

“Ugly little git, actually,” Sirius said. “Fat.”

“He’s a  _ baby _ , Padfoot,” Peter countered. “And I think he’s adorable.”

“I agree,” Lily said. 

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Well, let’s just wait for the two of them to age a bit, and then let the cousin rivalry begin!” And then he was off, describing all of the pranks he and Harry would pull on the poor unsuspecting child. 

The others joined in, laughing and joking about more and more elaborate schemes to pull the children into. 

As the meal progressed, Lily realized Remus had barely spoken. He’d always been quiet, but he could nonetheless usually be counted on for a good laugh. Lily watched his eyes. They followed the conversation almost hungrily, but Remus still didn’t speak. 

“Moony,” Lily said. “How are your parents?”

Remus started. “They’re doing alright. Tired, you know, worried, but otherwise fine.”

Sirius snorted. “That’s specific.”

“Sorry?”

“All I mean to say,” Sirius said, stabbing into his casserole with great ferocity, “Is that I’d think you’d have a lot more to say about people who you  _ live  _ with.”

Remus blinked. “Well, I only just started--”

“It makes one wonder,” Sirius said in a low voice. “Whether you even speak to them at all.”

“Wormy!” James said loudly. “This salad, mate!”

His words hung in the still air. 

Remus’s voice shook. “Just say what you mean, Sirius.” 

Sirius’s voice bounced with fake cheer. “How are we even to know if you live with your parents, Moony?”

“Where else would I live?”

“Perhaps you live with the wolves.”

The sudden silence was broken only by the clatter of Remus’s silverware hitting his plate. “Is that what you think of me? You think I’m living with other werewolves? You think I’m collaborating with the Death Eaters?”

Sirius’s voice rose. “What am I supposed to think? You never have us over, or come over here. You barely  come to meetings and you don’t talk to anyone anymore. So what exactly am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to think anything! You’re not supposed to analyze me! You’re supposed to just trust!”

Sirius laughed hollowly. “Trust? Why should I trust you?”

“Because that’s how this works.” Remus’s words were oddly guttural. “Because that’s what friends do.”

Sirius looked him in the eyes, and Lily realized that his anger was far deeper than she’d thought. “I think I’d know if we were friends, Remus.”

Remus scraped his chair back and stood. “Thank you for the dinner,” he said, his voice completely monotone.  His chin trembled. “But I believe it’s time for me to leave.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Remus, no!” Lily called, pushing herself back from the table as Remus left the kitchen. Harry began to cry in the sitting room as she rushed after her friend.

Sirius stabbed his fork into his bread and watched it waver for a moment before clattering down. After all this time, he thought he’d feel triumphant, or at least relieved, but instead he felt… hollow. 

“What the  _ hell _ , Padfoot!” Lily exclaimed, re-entering the kitchen. She cradled a crying Harry in her arms, tears running down her own face. “What kind of bullshit is that? He’s not your friend?”

Sirius opened his mouth to make a joke, but it died in his throat. “I-- I’m--”

“He  _ is  _ living with his parents, mate,” James said quietly. “And he’s having a rough time of it.”

“I would have thought you, of all people, would understand what Remus is going through!” Lily said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked through gritted teeth. 

“It means your entire life, people have told you what you were supposed to be! People told you that you were destined to be just like your family, and it destroyed you, Sirius! Don’t pretend it didn’t.”

“And the same thing is happening now with Remus,” James added. “We’re supposed to be there for him, we’re supposed to help him through this, and instead, you’re siding against him.”

“He’s not the traitor, Padfoot,” Peter said. “It’s Remus-- it’s  _ our _ Remus.”

“I-- yeah.” Sirius hadn’t really thought Remus was the traitor. But it just made the truth hurt that much more. 

Lily handed the still-crying Harry to James, then slammed her hand onto the tabletop. Her butterbeer sloshed out of its cup. 

“Remus is sitting out on our front porch right now,” she hissed. “And now I need you to tell me why exactly you just told someone who loves you more than anyone in the world that you aren’t friends.”

Sirius suddenly couldn’t look her in the eyes, couldn’t look at anyone.  _ Loves you more than anyone in the world…  _

“Now, Sirius.” Lily’s voice dripped with malice. 

Sirius swallowed. “I shouldn’t have-- shouldn’t have said we weren’t friends.” 

“I don’t see why not!” Lily said. “Because obviously you  _ aren’t  _ friends.”

“Friends don’t treat one another like that,” James agreed. “So what’s going on?”

“Nope,” Lily said. “We don’t have time for that. Remus is about to leave, and that’s not okay. So you’re going to go and explain yourself to  _ him _ .”

 

Sirius paused inside the front door, his hand on the cold handle. He checked his reflection in the glass of the door, then mentally berated himself.  _ You look like an asshole.  _ Nevertheless, he ran his fingers through his hair before opening the door. 

Remus was sitting on the far end of the porch in his jacket and scarf, his knees pulled up under his chin. He looked at Sirius and then turned away, eyes narrowed. “Lily convinced me to wait. But I’m not sitting in a house where I’m not welcome.”

“It’s not  _ my  _ house, Moony, it’s none of my--” Sirius cut off abruptly. He was not helping his case.

“Good save.” In the half-light of the porch, Remus’s face was written over in shadows, his eye sockets black and his chin all but gone. His eyelashes glistened in the light, and Sirius realized they were wet. 

The cold night air permeated Sirius to the bone. Remus had been crying. Because of  _ him.  _ Sirius had decided to protect Remus long ago, and now he was cutting his friend apart.

“Moony. Remus, I mean. I’m…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Remus gazed at him, his lashes veiling his eyes. “I know they made you come out here.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, no. Shit.”

“Just leave me alone.” Remus clutched his legs more tightly. 

_ Get it together,  _ Sirius told himself.  _ Figure this out.  _ He sat down on the edge of the porch, just close enough to reach Remus, and dangled his legs over the snow-dusted grass. Thick flakes danced to the ground, and Sirius wondered why the hell he deserved to live somewhere so beautiful when he was such an absolute prick. 

“It was a lie,” he said. “It was a stupid thing to say. Of course we’re friends.” Remus was silent, staring out in the night, and Sirius felt his chance slipping from him. “I don’t know why I said it. Remus, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why should I believe you?” Remus asked, studying the ground. “You accused me of being with You-Know-Who, Sirius, that’s not something you can just talk your way out of.”

“I know. I didn’t mean it, Remus, please know that.”

“I don’t. I don’t know that.”

Sirius sighed. “I fucked up,” he said. “I said I didn’t trust you, and then it just-- it just snowballed. But I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone else, Remus, I know you would sooner die than betray the Order. You’re the  _ last  _ person who would be a traitor, but after we stopped speaking I guess… I guess I listened to the rumors a bit too much. It hurt me so much, to hear those. You-- you have a heart of gold.”  _ And eyes like honey, and you have the softest skin in the world. But sometimes you’re so cold and sharp and distant, that I’m afraid I’ll snap you like thin ice if I get too close. _

“It didn’t hurt you as much as it hurt me,” Remus murmured.

“No.” Sirius bit his bottom lip. “No, I guess not. But my point is, I  _ do  _ trust you. I just don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t trust myself,” Sirius finished softly.  

Remus frowned, flickering his eyes up. 

“I think I did everything wrong,” Sirius whispered.  _ Fuck it all. Just tell him the truth.  _ “You were becoming more and more distant and I thought you were growing away from me, that I was suffocating you. I thought maybe, if I gave you space, it would all work out. Maybe not the way I wanted it to, but I thought at least we could be friends like we used to be, and I could… I could settle for that.”

“You could settle for friendship,” Remus repeated.

“I… God, Remus, I wanted something more!” Sirius felt his chest heat a bit, but couldn’t pull back, not when he was so close. Not when he had to say this. “I thought you wanted me, I hoped you-- I thought maybe you even loved me! And then you left!”

The porch light reflected ever so slightly in the darkness of Remus’s eyes as he stared at Sirius. 

Sirius growled. “Damn it, Remus! I fucking thought we could be something, and then you stopped talking! Stopped kissing me, stopped touching me, practically stopped being in the same room as me. And then we graduated and I thought I could mend it but you’ve all but disappeared these days, and what was I supposed to think?” His voice broke. “I thought that at least you’d give me some sort of explanation, but it never came.”

Remus was crying again, pale tears glimmering down his cheeks. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Remus shook his head, sniffing . “I never meant to push you away, Padfoot. I needed you more than ever these past few years. I can’t survive in this world like I did at Hogwarts, there isn’t a place for me here. So I guess I locked myself away, and when you didn’t come after me I convinced myself it was my fault, that you’d never love me.” 

They both fell silent.  

“Merlin,” Sirius sighed finally. “We were both bloody idiots, weren’t we?”

“I just never saw a version of this that ended well,” Remus said. “Not after school. But not even trying for one-- I’d like to fix that.”

“Me too,” Sirius reached out tentatively and touched Remus’s shoulder. “Can you accept my apology? For tonight, and for all the years before?”

Remus offered him a shaky smile. “I can try. I will, in time.”

Sirius exhaled slowly. It would have to be enough. He wished he could see Remus’s face better, wished he could take Remus’s chin in his hand and press their lips together, washing away the years of pain and betrayal with his tongue. But instead, he shifted closer to Remus and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into an awkward embrace. 

Remus shifted and settled more comfortably against Sirius, his hair brushing softly against Sirius’s skin. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, and Sirius sank into it, realizing just how much he had missed this boy’s body against his own. They remained still for a long time, watching their long shadows flicker out across the snow until they were completely overtaken with shivers. 

“Sirius,” Remus whispered finally. “You hoped I loved you? Did you… did you love me?”

Sirius hesitated for only a moment before nodding, pulling Remus closer.

“Do you still?”

“It’s been years and I can’t get your fucking face out of my head.”

“Yeah?” 

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much.” Sirius was quiet for a moment. “Do you love me? Wait, you don’t have to answer--”

“I love you,” Remus whispered, his smile sneaking into his voice. “It’s probably a bad idea, but I do.”

Light flickered across Remus’s freckles, and Sirius turned his head to look him in the eyes. He brushed Remus’s hair back with his fingers and gently traced along Remus’s jawline. Remus locked his eyes on Sirius’s, still unreadable, and Sirius just barely pressed his lips to Remus’s. When Remus didn’t protest, he eased his lips further, but Remus pulled his head slightly away.

“Not yet,” he whispered, nudging back Sirius’s chin with his own. “Soon, but not yet.”

“Okay.” He paused, then kissed Remus’s cheek lightly. 

Standing, he offered his hand. Remus took it in his own, smiling slightly, and then they turned and walked back into the house. Sirius rubbed his friend’s knuckles with his thumb, and when they stepped inside, he didn’t let go.

 


End file.
